Devil's Advocate
by RedDevilGirl
Summary: Spoilers up to 6x11 and written for the hellatus challenge on Supernaturalville. Dean suffers a crisis of confidence over his decision; he suddenly realises, it's all his fault. Everything. Cas chooses an unconventional way to talk him through it.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Death leaned over his brother, pressing the blinding white light into Sam's heaving chest. His heart beat faster, wanting to, no, needing to force his little brother's panicked, terrified words from his memory. _You don't what what'll happen to me_. No Sam. No I don't.

How could he be so scared if he had no soul? Was it… was it just animal instinct? Adrenaline? Or was there a bit more of Sam in there somewhere than he'd thought, of _his_ Sam? He shook the thought from his head. Of course not. He… it… tried to kill Bobby. Sammy wasn't home. Or at least, he hadn't been. _Back in 5 minutes?_

The screaming stopped, Sam's strong, tense body suddenly falling limp, a big arm dropping loosely from the cot and swinging, looking lifeless. Dean felt his own heart pause, as he had on too many occasions before and suddenly he was back in Cold Oak, back in Stull Cemetery, the words _Sammy, no_ running through his mind yet again.

Death stood back from the too-small cot and met Dean's terrified green eyes.

"Don't let him scratch, Dean."

Not a bit of panic in his freakin stupid calm English voice. What was with all these Brits from the underworld anyway? His panic meant that he didn't remember Bobby telling him the same thing when Sam was five and he'd looked after them both through the chicken pox. Bobby. He span around, Bobby behind him, Bobby who for some reason didn't seem quite mad enough that Sam had tried to kill him; and Death was gone.

Dean's eyes widened as he turned to Bobby, a plea to the older hunter to tell him what to do next. He nodded silently towards the bed. Bobby didn't often say anything if he didn't think he had to. Dean knew what he was being told to do. But he didn't want to. Didn't want to get to his brother's side and find out that it wasn't, that _Sam_ wasn't… wasn't _right_.

"Check on your brother, Dean." Bobby's gruff voice ordered him, stern yet soft enough to ground him.

Check on Sam. He looked at his brother. Or what he hoped was his brother. Maybe it always had been... he shuddered, remembering Sam's pleading from a few moments earlier. Not the time for doubts now, Winchester.

Dean could suddenly feel his heart beating again as he noticed Sam's chest rise, drawing in a big heaving breath. He took a few hesitant steps towards his brother's gargantuan form, noticing his brother's eyes closed, shattered.

He could feel Bobby's deep stare penetrate him as he placed a tentative, trembling hand on his brother's chest, feeling it rise and fall as Sam breathed deeply. He scanned Sam's face, looking, checking, searching for _Sammy. _Was he in there? Sam's long hair had fallen over his eyes, Dean feeling a slight tug somewhere in the pit of his stomach as he remembered the bangs that his little brother sported up until a few years ago. He reached up with his other hand, brushing Sam's hair back from his face to look a little more like Sam's more recent haircut. And it suddenly felt… better. He pressed the back of his hand to Sam's forehead, checking for fever and not sure if the heat he could feel was his own panic or rising from his brother's body. He looked at his own hands, aware that they were shaking. Drawing in a breath, he turned to Bobby.

"Bobby." His mouth was suddenly dry and he had to stop and swallow. Focus, Dean. You did this. And you promised to deal with – well. With whatever happened. He dropped to his knees next to Sam, hoping it was his brother that was sleeping in front of him. It felt like him. Or was it wishful thinking? He stroked his hair in an absent minded manner, remembering sitting up with Ben after he got sick last summer. All night.

"Son?"

"I errr… I'm gonna need a blanket. And a chair. And a glass of water. And some coffee. That's for me. And -," Dean stood up, slightly aware that he was babbling and started to unbuckle the restraints from Sam's wrists, cursing his shaky digits. He caught Bobby start to protest, but he quickly stopped. I guess I don't look like I want arguing with, he thought.

"He's not waking up and findin' himself still in a cage, Bobby. He's not." He looked up, his eyes pleading with the older hunter.

Bobby shrugged his shoulders and turned, hearing Dean call for a first-aid kit too. Sam had messed his leg up falling through the basement. Not to mention messing up my freakin' house. Again.

Dean settled himself on a wobbly wooden chair, mostly oblivious to Bobby having delivered his shopping list. He looked down at what he hoped was his little brother, a shiver running down his spine as memories of Cold Oak came back to him. But Sam was breathing. He was asleep. He stroked his hair again, not sure whether he wanted him to wake up and chew his ear for touching and fussing him, or just stay asleep. Just for now.

"I do hope this wasn't a bad idea, Dean."

The angel's monotone echoed around the mostly empty room, but Dean didn't flinch.

"If you're just here to say I told you so, then you're a little too early. He's sleeping. So be quiet, 'ass- butt'." Dean still didn't look at Castiel, but kept his tone as level as the Angel's. He tried to sound cool, collected, ready for his brother to wake up but convinced that both Sam and Cas could hear his heart hammering against his ribcage. He stood up, leaving Sam's hair alone and rolled up his jeans. There was a lot of blood.

"If you want to be useful, you can hand me that first aid kit."

"I could heal that wound in a fraction of the time it would take for you to dress it. Has your highly charged emotional state meant you've forgotten, or do you want to keep him incapacitated in case he reacts violently when he wakes?"

Dean drew in a breath, turning around to the angel, his voice raising slightly. "If you're not here to help me with this, what the hell do you want, Cas?"

"I heard your prayers."

"I wasn't praying."

"Yes you were."

"Yeah. Well… maybe. Not intentionally."

"Prayer is a complex –"

"Save the theology lecture, Cas." He ran a hand through his sandy hair. "I just… I just want him to be my brother again. Because… just cause." He finally made eye contact with his friend. Windows to the soul? Not if you were an angel. And not if you didn't have one. "And I need him to be okay."

"What is it that you miss about your brother?" said Castiel, giving Dean one of his limited emotions; confusion.

"Seriously, Cas?" Dean frowned at Castiel, incredulous. How could he not notice the difference? Surely he knew that the guy who'd been his friend less than a year before just wasn't there?

"I think my recollection of your brother might not be synonymous with yours."

"I didn't have to let you in here."

"Nobody let me in, I simply–"

"Cas!" Dean growled at the angel. He was wrong. He was – shit. No. He had to be wrong. He felt the tremble in his hands become worse and suddenly his whole body felt hot. Too hot. He sank to his knees.

"Are you sick, Dean?"

This was a terrible idea, stupid for even you, Winchester. I'm not… I'm not getting Sam back. I'm not getting back the kid who used to love lucky charms, who used to share his ice cream, whose knees knocked at the McDonalds adverts. The boy who gave him his amulet had long since turned into the man who trusted demons, effectively had a drug problem, and that determination and drive had been there since Jessica died. Probably before that. I'm getting the damaged, hardened man who was hunting on his own, soul intact, without me. RoboSam was just going straight to the credits on what had been a slow-burning plot. All part of Sam trying to look up to me. To act like me. Crap. I'm not solving anything. I'm being selfish again. And he knew it all started with his deal. Not… not all of it. He knew that was years before. But Sam… he let Sam down by being so damn emotional. He'd sold out too easy with just twelve months. And he'd been selfish about leaving Sam to cope on his own. And about putting the responsibility for Dean going to hell all on his little brother's shoulders. Even though… even though that wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. And -

"Dean, I strongly suggest you slow down your breathing as I believe that such large quantities of oxygen can be detrimental to the human body."

Dean raised his hands to his face, breathing in, out. He listened to his own breathing slowing a little, the blackness at the side of his vision beginning to come recede and the dizziness subsiding. Holy crap.

"Do you often have such a physical reaction to emotional situations?"

Dean gingerly placed himself on the chair next to Sam's cot, his brother not having stirred through Dean's panic attack.

"No. Not really. Not since… well." He dropped his head to his knees, slowly blowing air through his lips and resisting the temptation to hum Metallica. "Not for months now."

"It wasn't my intention to upset you, Dean. I was simply trying to explore the alternative to your self-deprecating viewpoint in order to ensure you'd made a clear decision."

"Devil's advocate?" Dean raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"I do none of Lucifer's bidding." His chest swelled proudly.

Dean closed his eyes for a second, wringing his hands together. Damn Angel. "Never mind." He concentrated on his breathing, trying to slow it, trying to avoid the panic taking him over again. "So what do I do now, Cas? Just, sit and wait?" _Please tell me he's okay, please tell me that it worked…_

Castiel walked towards Dean and glanced down at him. Dean's nerves were frayed. His heart was slowing slightly and the angel's steps echoed as he paced around the perimeter of the room. What did he even want, anyway?

"Would you like me to leave?"

What, so he can read freakin' minds now? Dean opened his mouth to speak, intending to send his useless holy ass packing back to heaven if he wasn't going to actually do anything, but instead found himself shaking his head. "No. No, Cas. Stay."

"You could tell me more about your brother. From before I knew him."

"Yeah, and we could toast marshmallows too. Or even paint our nails." Dean gritted his teeth as he watched Cas turn his hands over, carefully rubbing at his cuticles and curling his top lip in what could only be careful consideration of Dean's snarky suggestion. "You're right, Cas. He changed."

"When?" Castiel buffed his fingernails on his trenchcoat, not entirely ruling out Dean's suggestion of a manicure.

"Jeez, I don't know. When his girlfriend got burnt to death on the ceiling, when he found Dad dead on the floor of his hospital room, when he started banging demons, when he started exorcising demons with his mind?" Dean's voice raised slightly, placing two fingers to his own temple to illustrate exactly where he thought Sam's mind was but ending up executing some kind of odd salute. "Maybe when I sold my soul and was hell-bent on -" _Huh, figures_, "- taking off and leaving him to pick up the check." His voice fell. "I know it started then. And that I – woah, Cas. What're you –". Dean scooted the chair back, looking up at his so-called buddy advancing on his forehead with two fingers extended. Cas, no, not now, you sunnuva – holy crap.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean yelled, panicked, his heart pounding again and his stomach churning. "This is so not the time for one of your freakin' mystery tours. And you know it plays hell with my… system." Dean clutched his stomach, feeling his insides gurgling as they always did after a flight on Angel Airways. "Where are we?" he moaned.

"Your car."

"Perfect." The sarcasm rolled off Dean in waves. "And that's my seat."

"As the destination was my choice, I felt the driver's seat more appropriate."

"Not in my car its not." He glanced around him, taking in his surroundings. "When are we, and where are we? I was kind of too busy for this."

"Sam's hair was not benefitting from your preening. It's 2007."

"Huh." Dean stared out of the window, particularly pleased that Cas had registered the whole hair-stroking… thing. "So now you're my ghost of Christmas past?"

Castiel pursed his lips and looked blankly back at him.

"Yeah, yeah. I know you're not a ghost, and I know it's not Christmas. Still all a bit Bill Murray though." Dean started to mutter, knowing full well that most of what he was saying was lost on his companion.

"Your riddles confuse me." The angel shook his head dismissively, having decided a long time ago that much of what either Winchester said was unnecessary.

"Wait." Dean looked out of the window of the Impala, finding him and Cas parked in a clearing just behind what looked like a campsite. "I remember this. We're…" he clicked his fingers, searching for the memory. "Three missing guys, thought it was a Big Foot attack. All ran off-track into the woods chasing their dogs." Dean stopped, a moment of sadness for the pets that they never found. Well, not in one piece anyway. "I still don't know why we're here."

"You need to be quiet."

"Yeah, wouldn't want a major paradox on our hands." Dean muttered, slumping in the passenger seat. He heard footsteps crunching on the fallen leaves, reminding him that the campsite had closed for the winter, the names of the victims flooding back to him. But there was something else that he heard. He heard a voice. Sam's voice. His _real_ voice.

2007

"… _the lore says so, Dean. A Bigfoot would keep away. They're shy, keep themselves to themselves. It doesn't make sense."_

"_Well, what about the sightings of something freakishly big and hairy? You've got an alibi for the first attack, I know you have. It was right about the time you were putting razor wire right through Gordon Walker's neck. With your bare hands." Dean winked at his brother, trying to lighten Sam's mood. There was no going back for Gordon. Once you were turned, you were turned, right? _

_Sam walked around the Impala and slung his bag in the trunk, heaving in a deep breath before looking back at his brother. _

"_Are we doing this again, Dean?"_

"_Doing what?"_

_Sam slammed the truck closed, not waiting for Dean's gear. "I just –". He sucked his front teeth in frustration. "It was a vamp. Nothin' more. A vamp that might, just might, have had the face of someone we knew. And who, incidentally, was a dick." He raised his eyebrows at Dean, his palms up. "You didn't hear me bitchin' about when you took off that fang's head on that bench saw last year?"_

_No, thought Dean, but I felt it. The puppy dog eyes and the sulking… the looking at me like I wasn't quite okay and might break. He opened his mouth to protest and then thought better of it, Sam's expression not one that he felt ready for at that point. Change the subject. Focus him back on the job and he'll forget he's on his period. _

"_Could be a black dog." _

"_So it's dog eat dog, literally?" Sam's face had turned a little green._

"_Don't get all emo over the puppies, Sam." _

_Sam shot him a distasteful look. He was tired. He'd spent the last three nights researching, reading, not having dared to leave the motel room in case Dean woke up and thought he was out putting more of the bullets from the Colt through someone, or something else. It was like being grounded. _

_He shuddered a little at the thought of the Crossroads Demon. Threatening her felt so easy. The look of horror on the girl's face. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't a girl. It was a demon. And the meat suit it was wearing was probably long dead. But maybe not. He hated to admit, he didn't know. And at that point, he hadn't cared. He'd needed to do it. For Dean. _

"_So what time do we come back?" Dean prompted his brother, trying to engage him._

"_Nightfall. If, as you seem to think, Harry Henderson's on the loose, we're never going to see anything in daylight." _

"_Hey, you know what it could be?"_

_Sam's shoulders drooped and he looked at his brother, wondering why he insisted on antagonising him. If it was him in this mood, I'd just leave him to it. Sam gave him a blank stare. "What?"_

"_Coyote on steroids. Or… vampire coyote, get the razor wire…"._

"_I hope it is, and I hope it bites you." Sam deadpanned to his brother and flopped into the passenger seat of the car, purposefully looking out of the window in the opposite direction to his sibling._

"Ouch. Little bit close to home, Sammy… jeez, he's hard work." Dean and Cas had relocated to just a few yards away, leaning nonchalantly against a tree. He stopped and listened as the Impala chugged away. "Exhaust's blowing."

Castiel looked up at him.

"What?"

"We didn't come here for you to diagnose mechanical problems with your car, Dean."

"Well, what did you bring me to see? That Sam was a pain in my ass for twelve months and to remind me that he was Robo-Sam in the making from the moment I sold my soul? And that I pretty much acted like a dick for that whole twelve months and didn't give a crap about how Sam was feeling?" Dean was matter-of-fact. "I know all that." They stopped, hearing the wind whistle between them as something occurred to Dean. "Can they see us?"

"Who?"

"Me and Sam from 1955."

"2007."

"Whatever."

"No. They just drove away in the car."

"That's not –"

"They would sense your presence if they were still here, but not directly see you with their eyes."

"So can they see me or not?"

"It doesn't work like that."

"Cas!" Dean's voice lowered to almost a growl.

"If you're happy to over-simplify, you're invisible."

"Cool." Dean grinned.

"But-"

"I'm fine with invisible. Invisible's good. End of." Dean punctuated his sentence by drawing his hand in a straight line. "So what do we do now?"

"We follow them".

"Okay." Dean turned on his heels, jammed his hands in his pockets and started to trudge along the makeshift path left by the wheels of the Impala. Suddenly aware that Cas was right beside him, he glanced up, his peripheral vision just registering two fingers pushing towards his forehead. Oh, crap…

_The winter chill was just starting to be noticeable in the October air. After ruling out the bigfoot on some intel from Bobby (well, some fatherly criticism that basically made them both feel a little like work experience boys rather than seasoned hunters) they'd deduced that there was most definitely some kind of large dog, or wolf, causing havoc. Maybe not their type of gig… but there was no creature like that native to the area. Wasn't a werewolf; wrong lunar pattern. But no bodies… no traces of the guys but the dogs found ripped to bits? It had to be supernatural. _

_Besides, thought Dean, if we can waste this thing tonight, it'll be what Sam needs. His brother was down and needed a win. He knew wasting the Crossroads Demon and taking Gordon's head off weren't chalking up as positives for the kid. _

_Sam tucked himself behind his brother, Dean going first. He knew he should be glad he was there, that his brother was, despite it all, watching out for him. But he couldn't. He was too preoccupied with the idea that this was just another hunt. Not important. Dean should be doing something, anything to get himself out of this deal and that he just didn't care. It was like having his very own guard dog. And he didn't want a guard dog. He wanted his big brother. Sure, Dean had been trying to act more like his brother. Particularly since he'd asked him to. But he knew it was a real effort. And he knew that he wasn't making it easy. And every time… every time Dean did something stupid and reckless, Sam felt like a little bit of him died inside, too. And as for his own new reckless nature… what was the point in being careful if there was no-one to be careful for? _

_The girl was on his mind too. The demon girl. Ruby. Surely… surely she can't help my brother. And can't help me. His eyes hurt, the lack of sleep catching up with him. He couldn't sleep even when he tried. The stuff that scared him now was different. The thought that he was going to wake up one day and be something that he wasn't used to make him not want to fall asleep. Now, the thought that he'd never be what he needed to be scared the crap out of him. He knew what he needed to be. And he looked at it, his determined, green eyed older brother standing in front of him, strong and protective. Just like Dean._

I remember this hunt, thought Dean. And I remember there was something about the way it went down that just wasn't quite right. Dean watched as his younger self and younger brother skulked through the undergrowth. And it suddenly hit him. I know what it is. "Hell hounds, Cas." Dean clapped the angel on the chest as if he knew what he was talking about. "It's a hell hound."

"Hellhounds are invisible, Dean. At least, unless you're close to the veil."

"I know they're invisible. It's a…" Dean squinted and rubbed at his right eyebrow, trying to put his mind back to October three years ago. "Gottit. It's a Black Shuck. Like a black dog, but big-assed, oversized, nasty bitch of a hellhound. Guard crypts or graves, topside. Sussed the bastards out when I finally decided I didn't fancy taking the elevator downstairs. But I don't do that for weeks yet." Dean ran his hands through his sandy hair. "And we didn't know that when we came out here."

"_Stay close to me, Sam."_

"_What?"_

"_Just stick behind me." _

"_I'm not thirteen, Dean." Sam raised his voice, his irritation clear._

"_No, I just think that pocket knife you're sporting ain't gonna cut it with this fugly."_

"_It's a wolf." You Moron. He didn't say the last two words. He didn't have to._

"_Just…" He rolled his eyes. "Listen, okay? I've got a feeling, that's all." Dean frowned, not sure where his new inspiration had suddenly come from. _

"_I get it, Dean, you go first, dead man walking? That's bullcrap, you know that." Sam squared his shoulders as he did when he wanted to stand up to his brother, despite the fact that he towered over him. _

"_Shut up, Sam." Dean hissed through his teeth. "It's not about that."_

"_What the hell, Dean? Forty minutes ago you didn't have a clue what it was, apart from you wanted to go out, on your own, to 'investigate'. Since when do we do that?"_

Since I was determined to slope off to Hell without so much as having leaving drinks, perhaps?

_Dean shrugged. "It could take someone else tonight, Sam."_

"_Yeah, and if it does, it's because they're morons. Who in their right mind would be walking their dog down here when three people have gone missing?"_

_The hair on Dean's neck was standing on end and he shuddered, ignoring his brother's argumentative snarking. "I just remembered something." Even though I haven't got a freaking clue where or why I've heard it before. "Hellhounds, Sam. Demons will use them as an attack dog, or a guard dog. Crypts, graves and the like." _

"_Dean, we ruled out a Black Dog."_

"_Just, trust me on this one, Sam. It's not quite a hellhound. Or a Black Dog. It's more like… its corporeal big brother."_

"_Well, what's it doing here?" _

_Dean's voice fell a little quieter, keeping the colt cocked and his brother behind him. "I don't know yet. But there'll be something. Something that it's guarding. Something that it doesn't want people finding or messing with."_

"_Do you not think that this conversation might have been more appropriate back at the motel?"_

Dean looked at Cas. His brother had a point. "I didn't remember that, did I? I didn't know that. I can hear… me. Can't I?"

"It's not hearing. But you're aware of your own thought process."

"So when I tell you that we found a patch of earth that looked like it was recently dug up, perhaps by a dog, and a demon standing over it, then I'll hear me?"

"You just did."

"Did what?"

"Hear you."

"Woah."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"_Something's happened to start these attacks. Something that's prompted it to go after the dog walkers." Dean spoke quickly, his speech accelerating as, from nowhere, the pieces started to fall into place._

"_Maybe one of the dogs disturbed something…" He had to admit, from somewhere, his brother was on the best roll that he had been all day. _

"_Yahtzee, Sammy." He snapped his fingers, his lips pursed determinedly. "There's gotta be a reason why they've started attacking now, and why the dogs have been munched on, and probably the owners too." Man, I'm on fire… suddenly it all clicked and Dean felt like the hunt was on, racing at 100 miles an hour. Where the hell from, he didn't know, but man, he wasn't arguing. Dean motioned for Sam to quiet down, and luckily his brother fell in behind him, head and shoulders taller than him and brandishing his machete. _

"_Dean," Sam hissed, noticing something to their right. The earth looked… different. Like something had been digging at it._

_Dean raised an eyebrow, glad that his brother trusted his weird new instinct on the case. They were in a small clearing just off a track used by dog walkers and joggers. Dean knelt, feeling the evening damp rising from the ground. Sam was right; the earth was turned over at the bottom of a large tree. Sam fell in behind him, covering his back. Dean pointed the gun towards the ground and dragged the barrel through the loose earth, turning up nothing. He started to thumb through the debris. Nothing much to speak of. Dirt. More dirt. Twigs. A worm, which only twelve months earlier he would've flicked at his brother, hunt or no hunt. But not these days. The humour seemed to have gone out of it all a bit. He knew all Sam wanted him to do was act like that again, be the stupid goofball that he'd been in the past but it just wasn't in him at the moment. He raked the dirt with his fingers, and shrugged. This was a bust – nothing here. He felt Sam's shoulders relax behind him as he came to the same conclusion. _

"_You know why dogs dig, don't you?" Sam had a disgusted smirk on his face. "Just… don't bite your fingernails."_

_Dean automatically wiped his hands on his jeans, narrowing his eyes at his brother. "Enough, geekboy, carry on like that and I'll you'll be tasting my dogcrap fingers – " Dean cut his sentence short. His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of something over his little brother's shoulder. And he froze._

_Sam knew that expression. It read, Don't Move Sam. It was a direct order and he knew it. Every muscle in his body tensed, the machete still at his side. He swallowed slowly. "It's behind me, isn't it?"_

"_Uh huh." Dean's teeth were clenched tightly. Over Sam's right shoulder, just emerged from the trees, was the biggest, blackest beast he'd ever seen. Standing five feet high, it's red tongue panting underneath red eyes and saliva dripping. But it didn't move. _

"_What's it doing?" Sam hissed, waiting for Dean to do something. Anything. _

"_Nothing. It's… watching us." Dean hissed out of the side of his mouth. _

"_Does it know we're watching _it_?" Sam's voice rose, his panic not entirely hidden._

"_I'd say it's got a fair idea that its ears are burning." He snarked back at his brother. The colt was at his side, but the creature was too far away for a clear shot. _

"_I'm coming over there". No freaking way am I staying standing with my back to a hellhound. I don't care what he says. _

"_Slowly, Sam," Dean warned, ready to start bringing the sight of the gun up slowly. "I just need it a little bit closer and I'll get a shot. I said slow!" Dean panicked as his brother's big feet crunched on the fallen leaves. _

"_This is as slow as I can go!"_

"_Well, stop being so freaking… big!" _

"_For f-" Sam's curse was cut off mid-sentence as his too-big feet were swept from beneath him, the familiar feeling of being thrown six feet into the air and pinned against a wall, unable to move an inch. Although, this time he hadn't seen it coming, and this time, it was a tree. Crap. _

_Dean gasped for breath as his head smashed against the bark. Jesus, that hurt every freaking time it happened, no matter how often he had a demon fling him against… something. First time it's been a tree though. He opened his eyes and saw Sam in the same position, pinned motionless and wincing not ten feet away from him. Irritation tugged at him, wondering why he hadn't looked behind them, why the demon got the drop on them. Dad would be fuming, particularly as, he suddenly realised, he'd dropped the colt._

"You pair of freaking morons! I friggin' told them look behind them!" Dean beat himself on the head, the frustration making him want to stride over to his younger brother, and younger self and beat some sense into them. Bobby would've cracked their heads together

"Sometimes you two will hear something, but you won't listen."

"Jeez, Cas, is that what we're here for? To prove that we need to improve our listening skills? What the hell's the point in the whole thing if I can't stop what happened next?"

"You know the purpose of these visits is not to change the course of history."

"Whatever." Dean crossed his arms and turned away from Cas. Freakin' stupid ass-butt.

"Don't sulk, Dean."

_Jim Pinkney; the first guy to disappear, stood between them, his arms folded. Muscular and grinning and eyes demon black. He stood in the dark in just shirt sleeves; presumably a demon didn't feel the cold. His grin turned into a smirk and he clicked his fingers. As he did so, the black beast stalked slowly to his side, dragging its feet through the fallen leaves and taking what felt like an eternity. He rubbed its head like it was a puppy._

"_Dean and Sam Winchester." The voice was almost sing-song, perhaps a little awe struck. "Now, I never thought that I'd have the pleasure of meeting you two. You're big news in my neck of the woods." He motioned to the hellhound, guiding it over Dean, who was prone against the bark. "Which, funnily enough, is actually the woods." _

_The monster obeyed his master, plodding over to the older hunter. Dean did all he could to recoil from the hound's stench. It smelt like a wet dog. But, not just a wet dog. A freakin' dead, wet, dog, that had rolled in something before it died. Repeatedly. Dean's heart hammered against his rib cage, and he tried not to breathe as the huge dog explored his various crevices, his chest, his armpits, his ears, his face, his crotch. Why did dogs have to do that… he'd no choice but to take a breath. Not wanting to risk the smell of the thing, he gulped air down his throat and man, he could _taste_ the bastard. He gagged, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think of something he'd rather be doing than be here, like… well… anything. Hammering picture hooks under his finger nails was looking preferable. _

"_Not a dog person, Dean?" The demon mocked, his black eyes glinting gleefully at Dean's discomfort. "I hear you're going to have to get used to them."_

"_Hey, Asshole." Sam's voice was shakier than he intended. He sucked in a breath of air through his teeth and attempted to make his voice deeper, a little more threatening. "Call Wishbone off."_

"_Or what?" _

_Sam narrowed his eyes. "Or this, you dick." He licked his dry lips. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus." He glared at the demon, watching Jim Pinkney's eyes grow wider. "Omnis satanica potestas." Back to hell for you, you black-eyed bastard. _

_The demon coughed a weird, deep cough, sinking to his knees. Suddenly the force holding them to the tree released, dropping them rapidly to the floor. Sam hit the ground hard, his elbow on a rock. He yelled as a pain shot up his arm, distracting him from the exorcism. He rolled over, his first thought being the gun. Dean had dropped it about five feet away from him and he hastily scanned the undergrowth. It has to be there… _

"_Forgotten your words, Sam?" The demon panted, looking up from his kneeling position. "One more syllable of that bullshit and Fido puts his teeth through your pretty brother's neck." He nodded to Sam's right. Sam didn't want to look. _

_The black shuck towered over where Dean had fallen, its teeth just inches from Dean's Adam's apple, strings of stinking drool dripping onto his skin. Sam gritted his teeth, wanting to call to his brother but not wanting him to move and piss the dog off. Keep still, Dean, he thought. _

"_Besides." The demon clambered to his feet, seemingly none the worse for wear after Sam's part exorcism, and not paying attention to Sam's long fingers surreptitiously combing the undergrowth, knowing the gun was there somewhere. "I'm sure there's things I can tell you."_

"_I don't need help from demons."_

"_That's not what this week's gossip columns say."_

_Sam's jaw jumped nervously. Ruby. He couldn't know. Could he?_

"_Lost your tongue, Sammy?"_

"_Shut up. None of that explains who you are, or what you're doing here." Sam stood up slowly, keeping one eye on his brother and silently willing Dean not to move a muscle. _

"_Walking my dog." The demon gestured to the disgusting beast. "I like the quiet life, Sam. And I fully intend to keep it that way."_

"_Why?" Sam eyed the demon nervously. He hated talking to them. But sometimes… just sometimes they were useful. Like Ruby. _

"_You see, Sam, once you're on parole, you don't wanna go back inside. I want nothing to do with any of this. I know there's big things on the horizon, and that you're supposedly our new messiah."_

"_So you can't touch us." Sam said slowly, the realisation dawning on him. "Other demons would tear you to pieces." _

"_I can't touch you. " He started to pace around in an arrogant circle. "He on the other hand –" he gestured to Dean, his wrist a little limp. "Is cannon fodder anyway. He'd just be entertainment. And I believe he's got some treats in store for him when he gets downstairs. There's gonna be quite a welcoming party."_

_Sam felt it. The anger. He couldn't do anything about it and clenched his fists, willing it to stop. The feeling that he was going to explode if he didn't hit something, someone, scream or cause some damage to something. Every word out of the bastard's mouth made him want to blow its snarky head off its frigging shoulders. But he knew he couldn't move; the hellhound was centimetres from his brother's throat. He breathed in slowly, knowing that losing it now could be more than just a little problem for Dean. "Someone else has got dibs on him. His plane's not due to land yet."_

"_So he checks in early. Big deal." _

"_What do you want?" _

"_I want you two to pretend that this little encounter never happened. Like I said, I'm out. I wanna stay out."_

"_Well, perhaps murdering the locals isn't staying as low profile as you thought."_

"_If their stupid mutts hadn't been digging at my patch, there'd have been no need to." _

It hit Dean like a slap in the face with a wet fish.

"It's his remains, isn't it?" He turned to Cas, a mix of excitement and irritation that they'd not asked the question during the hunt. The freakin' dog is guarding the demon's original burial site. Marked by a tree."

"I believe your turn of phrase would be Yahtzee, Dean."

He knew Cas never take a 'playful punch' in the way it was intended, so decided not to bother.

_Sam frowned as the demon gestured to the disturbed tree roots, baffled as to why it made a difference, sensing the demon's distraction as an opportunity. He reached into his waistband, the colt expertly stowed by his sleight of hand skills as he'd stood up earlier. He cocked the gun, confidently aiming for the demon's head. _

"_Let my brother go."_

"_And what?" He put up his hands in protest. "You kill me anyway? No fun in that."_

"_Let. Him. Go." Sam's voice dropped, acquiring a rumble that echoed through the night air and encouraged a low growl from the hellhound._

"_You won't shoot me, Sam. I'm wearing one of your precious locals."_

"_Don't test me."_

"_I just did." _

_Sam swallowed repeatedly, a panicked lump rising in his throat. His face hurt from grinding his teeth together. He had to do _something_. His mind flashed back to holding the gun, to pointing it at his father. His own Dad begging him, no, ordering him, to shoot him. Part of him wondered whether if he'd done it, any of this crap would be happening now. He felt his chest feel tighter, like it was in a vice, his hands trembling. Shoot the demon and the dog rips Dean's throat out. But he had to do something… three… two… one…_

_BANG! Sam pulled the trigger, a ninja-quick movement to his right taking out the hellhound. A lightning flash emanated from the bullethole in the creature's head; it died like a demon. Its body slumped to the floor and he felt a rush of relief when he saw Dean roll out of the way. He was okay. Quick as a flash, the gun was pointed in front of him, straight back at the demon, his heart rate slowing knowing that his brother couldn't be torn to pieces at the snap of the demon's fingers. _

"_You know I can't harm you, Sam. I'd be sent back to hell as a whipping boy soon as the next demon set eyes on me. I can help you." The bastard was pleading now. Gotcha. Sam's lip twitched._

Don't do it, Sam. Dean muttered to himself under his breath. Don't shoot him.

"_You don't know anything, do you." It was a statement, not a question. This guy was hanging around in a park, he was barely an extra in the big scheme of things. He was starting to understand the hierarchy, and this guy wasn't nearly the same payscale as the Crossroads demon. Who told him squat. _

"_Are you willing to take that chance?" _

"Do the ritual, Sam. The Latin. Come on, Sam. Try it." Dean urged his brother, his voice getting louder. Freaking _listen_, Sam!

_He considered it, a small voice in the back of the head insisting that somewhere, the guy could be alive. That the exorcism might work. But it was only there briefly. Tuning it out, he squeezed the trigger. "Yeah. I am."_

_Dean sat against the tree, watching, silently pleading. Willing Sam to walk away. And feeling his heart skip a beat as his brother put a bullet square between the eyes of Jim Pinkney. Sam looked towards him and Dean expected to see that determined, set jaw, for him to come over and pick him up. He started to struggle to his feet, his stomach still rolling from the dogbreath in his face. _

_He didn't see determination. Sam wouldn't meet his eye. And a little bit of him was glad. Because he didn't know what he'd see in his brother's eyes. The guy could have been alive. Probably not… but there was a chance. And if there was a chance, Sam would want to try. Well, the old Sam would. Before the deal. Before he came back from the dead. Before he took off Gordon Walker's head with a piece of razor wire and his bare hands. Before he shot the crossroads demon. Dean looked carefully at his brother as he passed him. His eyes were dull. Like a little bit of him died with Jim Pinkney. _

"_Sam…"_

_Sam dug his hands into his pockets, dropped his head and walked straight past his brother._

"_We got a body to bury, Sam!"_

_His brother continued, kicking the leaves and his head down, not acknowledging him. Asshole. I guess I'll do it myself. _

"See Cas, he's right there." Dean chewed his bottom lip as his little brother wordlessly strode away down the dark path. "That's the Sam I've been living with for the last three months." His voice was hoarse, not wanting to admit that to himself. "Crossroads demon. Gordon Walker. Stunt demon. He's ruthless, Cas." He ran his palm down his face.

"Do you remember the rest of the night, Dean?"

"I think so…" He thought back. "I think he turned up at about five in the morning with the best part of a bottle in him. He's a useless drunk." Dean pulled the collar of his leather jacket closer to his neck, a pang of nostalgia for the Sammy who actually used to get drunk with him. No more than two, three beers now. RoboSam wouldn't lose control like that. Hell, he's got no emotions and nothing to get away from; he doesn't need to. Shit… I get it. If I could get rid of that feeling, the way that a bottle of jack made me forget, just for an hour or so, would I want it back? Probably not. He turned to his friend, exhausted by the whole experience.

"Cas, man, what's your point? So RoboSam was already there. Years ago, but he's there. I've been trying to get back my 'old Sam', and I get it. That is my 'old Sam', just with a few less complications. And I've risked what bit of him's still left with this wall deal." He bit his lip. "And I know it was my fault. If I'd not… if I'd not acted like a prize douche, then it wouldn't have hit him so hard. I know I caused it. It… I was… it took me a while to realise how freaked I was by the whole thing. And I did realise y'know. Eventually."

Cas was looking at him expectantly.

"You want to show me the rest of the night, don't you?"

"I think it would resolve a few issues, yes."

He closed his eyes. "Can we at least count down before lift-off this time? You know to maybe give me, oh, okay, no…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

They landed with a thump, Dean's stomach tumbling and knowing that he was going to take a week to get over this trip digestively. The streetlamps flickered with their arrival.

"The motel parking lot, Cas?" He was baffled, remembering what had happened when Sam got home. "Surely you want to shazam me to the motel room to stop me chewing Sam's ear off when he comes in tanked up? Cos I know I did."

Cas said nothing, and nodded to the Impala. The parking lot was almost silent. Dean stopped, hearing…. _something_. A raccoon? A kid? A… oh, crap.

_Sam poured the whiskey between his lips, gasping as the cold air and the alcohol combined, burning the back of his throat. He vacuumed in huge sobs of cold night air, his heart pounded and annoyingly his nose dripped. He couldn't go back in the motel. He needed to just be out of the vicinity of his big brother so that he wouldn't know that he was losing it, that he was panicking and couldn't cope with Dean's deal. Because he knew his brother was scared. Terrified, in fact. And there was nothing that he could do about it. And he couldn't make him face it. _

_He was trying. But all the bullshit stuff that Dean was trying to do wasn't helping. He didn't want to know how to fix the car. The damn thing didn't matter. Not really. He couldn't bear the thought of driving it around on his own. It was bad enough that they had to do it without Dad. But… it'd be like rattling around a big old empty house when your family had died. And that should only happen to old people. I'm twenty five, and it's bad enough that I've lost both my parents. I can't lose my big brother too. _

_He knew he had to do something about it. He swigged from the bottle again, knowing that he would suffer for it in the morning, or even in an hour or so, but not caring. I've got to get past this. I've spent so freaking long trying to make sure that I don't turn into something… else, something evil, and I've ended up just not being tough enough. I've got to change. Got to be more like Dean. Got to realise that I can't save everyone, and not end up drinking in the goddamn parking lot on my own when I can't. Because there's only going to be me soon. But tonight… tonight I just need to not_ feel_ it. He covered his eyes with one hand, feeling a new wave of sobs shake his huge frame. He didn't even want them to stop. Part of him wanted his brother to come out here and find him in pieces, because then he'd know that he couldn't just put a bullet in that guy without feeling it. But that was easily outweighed by the fact that if Dean knew he was pouring liquor down his throat in a parking lot, another little bit of what was left of his brother would be sent to hell already. And he needed all the pieces that were left to stay there. _

"He's broken, Cas." Dean's voice was quiet.

"Remember what you said earlier, Dean."

"What?"

"You were terrified. Sam didn't let you see any of this."

"Shit. I let… let him to be vulnerable to that black eyed bitch. It's all my fault."

"Talk to him."

"What?"

"He's your brother. He's felt you from beyond a veil before."

"You're unbelievably filthy." He gave Cas a deadpan look.

"You won't remember." The angel ignored him, making Dean a little impressed that he was starting to either understand when he was joking. Or maybe just learning when to ignore him.

"Man, I feel like I'm at a slumber party." Dean sat down tentatively next to his tearful brother, knowing that he couldn't make physical contact with him.

"Sammy?" Man, this is _awkward._

Sam didn't look up, continuing to heave ridiculously sasquatch-sized sobs into the front of his flannel shirt. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, causing Dean to flinch a little.

"Don't do that, Sam." He resettled himself, not having seen Sam lose it like this since he was a kid. And a little one at that. He blew through his nose slowly. For all that he protested about touchy-feely crap, it had a place. And just maybe this was it. And he knew he'd missed the boat the first time he'd done this night when he left Sam to his own devices for the evening. Here goes nothing, he thought, Time to make it better. Or at least, time to try.

"I don't know if you can hear me, Sam. Hindsight's a wonderful thing. And if you're listening, I was being a dick. I tried a few times, back then, to tell you what was going on for me. But I couldn't do it properly. Because…" He stopped and swallowed, thinking how much he could do with a whiskey. "Because I was scared, Sam. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I couldn't deal with it. But… it was all about you. And I understand now. I get what I was leaving you to face. Because I've been there, and I've bought the damn t-shirt."

"I was a mess without you. Jeez, I'm still a mess without you. I cried. I had nightmares that left me –," He gestured with his hands into empty space, almost like he was physically reaching for words that were just out of his grasp. "Man, they left me waking up in a cold sweat, screaming. I'd be in that much of a panic I'd have to race to the bathroom and puke my guts up. I wouldn't let Lisa, or Ben, near me for weeks. And I drank. Like a fish. And that's saying something for me. And I had… I had someone stupid enough to take me in. Someone to love me. And…" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "… God alone knows why."

"I just know that –," He stopped, noticing Sam's shoulders had stopped heaving, and he was sniffing, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his hands, a little calmer. "There's gonna be some serious shit goes down for the next two years. And I'll give you a hard time over it all. I'll tear you so many new ones that there'll be nothing left. Worse than that, I'll ignore you. I'll say I'm done with it, with you."

"But I'm not. I get close, but I'm never done. And I'm still doing my best, Sam. I promise. Even when you look at me and see nothing but a massive douchebag giving you grief. When I know you're hurting. When you're coming down from a demon blood high and I won't come to you when you scream for me. When you lie to me. Even when you – " Dean swallowed. "Even when you look at me and feel nothing. Because you will, Sam. Remember that I never stopped wanting what was best for you. Cause… cause you're my brother." Dean's voice dropped to a whisper, rubbing a tell-tale tear from his own cheeks. "And I miss you."

_Sam felt a drip on the end of his nose, at first thinking it was a stray tear but feeling a little disgusted when he realised it was actually just snot. For some reason, the sobs had subsided and he looked towards the motel room window. Dean's in there, he thought. And he's probably pissed that I've vanished. He didn't have a clue what time it was, but it felt like one of those nights that just wasn't going to end. I could sit out here in the cold and cry all night and the night would just carry on, and on. He knew crying wasn't going to solve anything. Somehow though, for some reason, he felt a little better. Like… like a weight off his shoulders. And he did something that he'd not done in a long time. _

_Sniffing back his blocked nose, he clasped his hands together and eyed up the cloudy sky. The moon was just visible, casting a dull but unmistakable moonlight over the back end of the parking lot, a beautiful natural contrast to the yellow of the electric lamps. His head tipped forward, his not quite empty whiskey bottle rolling in a circle next to him. A little bit of him felt silly. As if… as if somebody could hear him. Well, you wouldn't do it if you didn't think anyone was listening, he thought._

"_I… I've not done this for a while. I just hope that if…" A stray sob rose in his throat and he swallowed it. You can't pray and cry at the same time. Or at least, he didn't want to. "If someone's listening, please… I hope you can forgive what I did today. I'm truly sorry. But not for…". Shit. How do I tell God that I'm not sorry for killing a man? I am… but I'd do it again. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for the all of it. I'm sorry that my brother made that deal. I'm sorry that he couldn't live without me, and I'm sorry that he doesn't think he's worth… worth _anything_." His voice cracked, stopping to sniff again. He unclasped his hands and gripped his hair. "Please. Please help him. He's got to realise that he wants to live. He's got to know… got to know that I need him to live. But not for me. He's got to do it for himself. Because… because he's awesome. And I love him. I can't tell him, but I do. Please don't let my brother go to hell." _

Dean stopped, stunned. "He really does pray."

"He used to."

"He prayed for _me_?" Dean gestured to himself weakly, incredulous.

"Of course he did."

"So… did you hear him?"

"I'm playing it back to you. Yes Dean, I heard him."

"And you just left him hanging?"

"I strode into hell and pulled you out. Do the equations."

"The math, Cas. it's 'do the math'." The corners of his mouth twitched into a slight smile. "But seriously. You're not telling me that you pulled me outta hell because Sam _asked_?"

Cas shuffled awkwardly. "It's not – "

"Yeah I know, not that straightforward. Nothing ever freakin' is."

"It was your destiny, Dean." Cas turned away.

"I'm done with destiny, Cas. You know that." He kicked at a discarded aluminium can, shocked when his boot made contact and he recoiled slightly. "I thought we were invisible?"

_A sudden rattle disturbed Sam's prayer, and he snapped his head up, his hunter's instincts ignited despite the whiskey. A coke can suddenly scooted across the parking lot, as if it had taken a swift kick. Just the wind. Surely? He shuddered, sure somewhere on that wind he heard the words "Sam, it's cold. Go to bed." He shook his head. Man, whiskey does some funky things to me. _

Dean watched his brother climb shakily to his feet.

"Is he gonna be okay?" he whispered.

"You know the rest of the story, Dean."

"Yeah, well it seems there's scenes I wasn't privy to." He called over the parking lot to himself to go easy on his brother he watched the motel room door open, hearing his own voice exclaim "Dammit, Sam" as his brother fell through the door. He felt about five years old as he turned back to Cas. "Can we go home now?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"You two enjoy your date?" Bobby's gruff voice brought Dean back to reality as he found himself on the floor of the panic room. He picked himself up, looking at the older hunter who was leaning in the doorway.

"Bobby." He looked up and saw Cas standing over him, reaching up a hand for Cas to help him up. "We've been –"

"Save it, boy. I just thought you'd have chosen a different day for you and your new sidekick to run off to save the world." Bobby turned, not really too mad with Dean, and trying to hide his relief that he was home. Never good when one of those boys vanishes without a trace.

Dean gave Cas a half- angry glare. "Next time you want me to come out to play, you'd better make damn sure I've got permission." He walked over to the cot, sitting back down at the chair he'd left what felt like a day earlier. Sam's chest was hitching, his skin clammy and a little feverish.

"You asked me to do it, Dean."

"I freaking didn't. I asked you…" He looked at the ceiling. "I asked you to –" he bit his lip, not sure that he'd ever said this before. "I just wanted you to be my friend, Cas. To y'know… be there. And tell me I was doing the right thing. You didn't have to try and prove it."

"Devil's advocate."

"What?"

"That's what you wanted."

"I thought you didn't do that."

"I didn't. You were the devil's advocate. The devil's advocate was a function in the early church who presented arguments against new doctrine or Christian ideas. The premise was that we were restoring Sam's soul. It was you who was suddenly presenting the counter argument."

He frowned at the angel, confused.

"You were suffering a crisis of confidence. Concerned you'd acted incorrectly. The version of Sam that you saw before his soul was restored was, as you were fearing, still Sam. Of sorts. You were frightened that all you would get back was the same, but more emotionally damaged."

"Can you blame me?" Dean whispered. "You saw what he was capable of. Even _with_ his soul."

"And now you've seen what it was doing to him. He needed some guidance. He needed you."

"I know. But… but I couldn't do it, Cas. I was terrified." And I don't think I've ever admitted that before, he added to himself. And I am again.

"In blaming yourself, Dean, you're entirely disregarding your own emotional turmoil. Surely you remember that now. And he's going to need you again now."

Dean swallowed. "You're right, Cas. I was messed up. Too messed up to realise what was happening to him. I got there, though. It just took me a while."

"You can't be his conscience forever, Dean. He needs his soul. With his soul, he's a killer. Without it, he's a cold-blooded killer. Sam from three years ago would never put you in danger with the vampire, or threatened Bobby." _Or me_, he added silently. "You just needed to remember the distinction. To stop your panic that you've made the wrong decision and realise how much he needs you to be there for him."

"That's a bit touchy-feely for you, Cas." He nervously watched his younger brother's face twitch. _Was he in there_? "So, it worked then?" He looked up hopefully. Desperately.

Cas looked away, unsure what to tell his friend. "I don't know, Dean."

"You don't know?" Dean's voice rose, the anger building. "All that, and you don't freaking KNOW?"

"Whatever has happened, Dean, you needed to be sure of your decision. And you needed to know that you had made the decision for the right reasons." Cas' voice rose, mirroring Dean's shout. Any calmness Dean had felt at seeing Sam asleep was suddenly gone and he desperately raked his hands through his hair.

"Dean. This may have failed. It may be successful. You may have to support Sam more than you're anticipating. But remember who he was. Remember who he _is_. And know that the difference between Sam with a soul and without a soul is why you took the risk."

No. No way. I can't go through today, through the last few months, and have it all fail. Dean pushed the heel of his hands against his forehead and looked down at his brother, praying silently. Please. Please let him be okay. And be my brother again.

Sam shuffled in his sleep, his forehead twitching as Dean's heart rate picked up.

He was waking up.

_END_

_Thanks for reading this one, it was something of a first one back for a while! _

_Cheers all, _

_Sarah _


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